


Towards the Sun

by Xemichal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Laura Hale, Alive Talia Hale, Alternate Universe - The Vampire Diaries Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Fake/Pretend Relationship, I'm using the vampire rules from it at least, M/M, Self-Hatred, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Stiles Stilinski Doesn't Know About Werewolves, Stiles Stilinski Finds Out, The Hale Fire still happened but Talia survived it, Vampire Stiles, Werewolf Mates, kind of, this still gears more towards Teen Wolf logic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:48:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28126371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xemichal/pseuds/Xemichal
Summary: After one last hurrah celebrating college graduation with his best friends, Stiles Stilinski wakes up covered in blood in the middle of the woods.A hangover might have been preferred.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 15
Kudos: 90





	1. Transition

**Author's Note:**

> So I got a little burned out by the other fic I'd been writing. That, combined with some real life stuff getting in the way meant I had to step away from fic for a while. I'm back, though, and will be hopefully working on this and the other fic I'm currently writing, Sparking a Fire, as I find time. :)  
> Please know that at this time, I am not interested in any kind of attempts at constructive criticism with my work, as this is something I'm doing for fun. I merely share what I think others might enjoy! :)
> 
> If I missed anything in the tags, please feel free to let me know so I can add it! 
> 
> Also of note: This fic will incorporate aspects of Vampire Diaries canon. Mostly in the form of how vampirism works, with some Teen Wolf-ification as needed. That said, I'm not banking on any characters from TVD appearing in this fic, though that is subject to change if the need arises. :) I DO, however, intend to include some Vampire OC's for Plot Reasons later on. 
> 
> Regardless, enjoy!!!  
> 

Stiles Stilinski woke with a start, bolting up and gasping for air as he took in the tall evergreens standing all around him. His heart was beating like a hummingbird's as he tried to figure out where the fuck he was and how he’d gotten there, but he couldn’t remember much of the previous night. He knew he’d gone out to celebrate college graduation with his friends—everyone had gotten back to Beacon Hills over the course of the week, so a Friday night seemed like the perfect time to get together—and he knew they’d ended up going clubbing for one last college hurrah, but everything after that was a blur. Leave it to him to get drunk enough to do something like this. 

Regardless of how he’d gotten there, he needed to get home before his dad started to worry too badly. Easiest method would be rescue, of course, but when he fished his phone out of the black skinny jeans Lydia had talked him into, it was dead, so no quick rescue. Not that he’d expected it to be that easy, but a guy could dream. 

He rubbed at his neck, which was a little sore from sleeping on the ground, but grimaced when he found something sticky there. He pulled his hand away and was horrified to find what looked to be semi-dried blood. Alarmed, he prodded at that area of his neck, but found no wound. So not only was he in the middle of nowhere, but he seemed to have someone else’s blood on his neck. Super. 

“I better not have killed someone,” he mumbled to himself as he stood up. He brushed his hands off on his jeans. He could faintly hear cars to his left, so he set off through the forest in that direction. 

The light hurt his eyes as he walked—he’d kill Scott for convincing him to drink last night—and the birds chirping in the early summer morning pounded at his head. There was too much light and noise and he just wanted to get home so he could eat and go back to sleep. 

His stomach grumbled at him. He was practically starving, and he needed to get something in him to hopefully help the hangover. Maybe he’d let his dad have bacon for once, because that meant that Stiles could have bacon. The thought did little to appease his hunger, but it was something to look forward to once he got home. 

Strangely, he didn’t have to walk very far. Within five minutes of waking up, he found himself stumbling into his own backyard. He wasn’t about to question it, though, since it got him that much closer to food. 

He’d been smart enough to leave Roscoe—the baby blue Jeep that had belonged to his mom—at home, but he had at least thought to bring his keys. He let himself into the back door easily and slipped into the kitchen, careful not to make any noise in case his dad was home and sleeping. 

No such luck. 

"Stiles," his dad said from the table, not looking up from the police file he was looking over. "I thought we'd moved past the sneaking into the house thing, kid."

Stiles froze. "Uhh," he said smartly. "I didn't want to wake you?" It wasn't a lie, but he also didn't exactly want to have to explain where he'd been last night. Especially since he was still a little hazy on the details himself. 

"Uh-huh," he said disbelievingly. "Wanna tell me why you're coming through the back door?" 

Shit. That was a very valid question given the fact that neither of them ever used the damn thing outside of barbecues. They didn't really go into the backyard for much more than that, and the lawnmower was easily brought back there through the back gate. There really wasn't a good excuse for it, and his dad had spent long enough as a police officer in a town with an abnormal number of strange cases not to notice. He gulped. "I went for an early morning run in the preserve?" Shit. He phrased it like a question again. He was better at lying than this, damn it. 

His dad finally looked up at him, his eyes widening as he noticed the dried blood. "Stiles!" He pushed himself out of his chair and rushed over. He gently maneuvered Stiles' head so he could get a good look at his neck. "What happened?"

Stiles shrugged. "I just woke up like that, I don't know." He shied away from his dad's grip. "I woke up in the preserve, so maybe I stumbled over a dead animal or something." 

His dad shot him a disbelieving look. "You need to be serious about this, kid." He paused and wiped a hand down over his mouth. "Did you hurt someone?"

"What?" Stiles said, incredibly offended that his dad could even think him possible of that sort of thing. "Dad, no! You know I would never—" He scoffed. "Take a sample if you need to, get it identified or whatever. But you and I both know that's not me." 

His dad deflated. "I know, kid," he said. "I have reason to worry, though, when my son shows up covered in blood." 

Stiles shrugged and nodded. "I get it," he said. "But I'm sure I landed on an animal or something when I passed out last night." 

His dad shook his head. "Only you, Stiles," he said, moving to sit back down. It was a testament to just how often Stiles found himself in weird and compromising situations that his dad didn't seem very fazed by this. "There's coffee if you need it, but you might want to shower first." 

Stiles nodded. A shower would absolutely make him feel better. Shower, coffee, then food. With that game plan set out, he headed for the stairs. "Oh, kid?" His dad said as he reached the first step. Stiles turned his head towards his dad. "I think the shirt might be ruined." 

Stiles looked down at his shirt to see a portion near the neckline of the red plaid he'd been wearing stained with blood. He grimaced. "I liked this shirt," he complained as he ascended the stairs. Oh well. One ruined shirt wasn't the end of the world. 

He started pulling off his clothes after he got to the top of the stairs and gathered them in his arms as he made his way towards his bathroom. He pulled off his boxers as he got into the bathroom itself before throwing the whole pile next to the sink and locking the door. He got the water to the temperature he preferred—just this side of scorching—before jumping in. 

He scrubbed at his neck first, eager to get the stickiness off of his skin. It wasn't entirely pleasant, and the whole thing was more than a little confusing. As he scrubbed, the water running down into the drain stained red, and it was strangely mesmerizing to watch. He watched the drain intently, scrubbing until the water ran clear and his skin felt raw. 

He finished showering quickly after that, his stomach insistent that he hurry. He toweled off and got in front of the mirror to brush his teeth. Once he was done with that, he examined himself in the mirror because he was feeling a little strange. Everything seemed to check out, though. His eyes were still that whiskey color that everyone said reminded them of his mom, his hair was still the same brown it had always been, and his face was still as mole-dotted as ever. So why did he feel so strange? It was like something just beneath the surface itching its way towards the surface. 

His hair was getting a little long, sure, but that didn’t account for the weirdness. He thought it looked good. He'd kept basically the same style since he was seventeen—ever since the buzzcut grew out, he never looked back because Lydia would have killed him if he'd tried to buzz it all off again—but it did require a bit more maintenance than what he might have liked. 

He reluctantly looked at the area where the blood had been and reached a hand to touch the skin gently. An image flashed in his mind of a hot blond guy kissing him fervently in that same area, his hot breath teasing along Stiles' collarbone as his teeth scraped lightly across his skin. 

Stiles shook his head to clear the memory. That was weird, but it was definitely a memory of last night. He must have made out with the guy at the club. Had he hooked up with him before wandering through the preserve? 

He frowned before reluctantly moving away from the mirror and pulling on just his boxers from the previous day. He grabbed his phone from the pocket of his skinny jeans and headed to his room. He plugged his phone in on his night stand, then dressed quickly in a simple white t-shirt with an open green plaid over-shirt and simple jeans. After dressing, he went back to his phone and turned it on to see if he had any messages. 

A string of text notifications came in—mostly of Erica live-texting about his interaction with the blond guy he’d just remembered—as well as a voicemail. He thumbed through the texts from Erica, which consisted mainly of the sentiment “get it, Stiles!” A couple of her texts questioned how it had been, and what he’d gotten up to after he’d left the club with the guy. 

The other two texts he had consisted of Scott asking him if he’d made it home okay—sent at around midnight last night—and a message from Lydia asking if he’d like to get coffee this morning. Unsure of how to respond to Erica, he told Scott that he was safe at home before confirming the plans with Lydia. After a couple minutes of contemplation, he finally texted Erica to admit that he had no memory of anything with the guy, blaming the alcohol for it. She immediately complained with a "boo," but didn't press, which he was thankful for. 

His stomach reminded him yet again that he really needed to eat something, so he headed downstairs to fix something up, forgetting the voicemail completely. His dad was still at the table as he headed straight for the fridge to grab the bacon he'd hidden, as well as a couple eggs. "Want any?" He asked his dad. 

His dad raised an eyebrow at him. "You're willingly offering me bacon? What'd you do?"

He rolled his eyes fondly. "I'm not so heartless as to make you suffer the smell of bacon and not give you any. One strip won't kill you, even if I'm fully intending to get you something much healthier for dinner tonight to compensate." 

His dad chuckled. "Of course," he said. "Tempting as that is, afraid we'll need to rain check, kid. I gotta get to the station here soon. Parrish called while you were upstairs. Seems he made a break in this case last night, wants to go over a few things with me." He started gathering his papers to put the file back together. 

Stiles frowned but shrugged. "It's fine," he lied easily. He was more than a little disappointed to lose out on a meal with his dad. "See you later?"

His dad smiled and finished shuffling the papers, but withdrew his right hand from the file on the table with a hiss. "Shit," he said, "Paper cut." Stiles examined the small beads of blood collecting around the small cut, and he could only stare. It was mesmerizing, and he could almost feel himself moving towards it without even meaning to. He dropped the eggs he'd been holding, splattering them on the floor. 

His dad gave him a look and stuck his finger in his mouth, shaking Stiles out of whatever had taken hold of him. He blinked, incredibly confused. "See you later, kid," his dad said as he collected his things and headed for the front door. "Make sure you clean that up!" Stiles just watched after him, his heart hammering in his chest. 

When the front door shut, Stiles shook his head and moved to clean up the mess he'd made. Suddenly, he didn't particularly feel like bacon and eggs. He'd be meeting with Lydia soon anyway, so he could just grab a scone or something with the coffee. 

***

When he walked into the cafe Lydia had told him to go to, he didn't take off the sunglasses he'd put on. The light was still bothering him, and even the light streaming through the windows was enough to make him wince. He acknowledged Lydia waiting in the corner, and she smiled at him before focusing on her phone. He ordered a simple black coffee with some creamer—not really feeling up to anything too fancy—as well as a chocolate chip scone. As soon as he gathered them both, he made his way to Lydia. 

"You look like shit, Stilinski," she said as he sat down, brow lightly furrowed. "How much did you drink last night?" 

He glared at her. "Love you too, Lyds.” He shrugged. “Apparently I drank enough that I don't remember hooking up with a guy. And I woke up in the preserve, if that tells you how my morning's going." 

Lydia quirked one of her perfect eyebrows and tucked her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. She looked amazing today, but that was no surprise. "At least someone had a good time. Jackson decided he wanted to 'talk' since Danny let him tag along last night." 

Stiles took a sip of coffee, which warmed him a little. It was nice, but tasted a little off. He shrugged it off. "Yikes," he said. "I thought he and Ethan were doing the long distance thing." 

Lydia grimaced. "They are," she admitted, taking a sip of her own coffee. "I think he just wanted to clear the air since he's moving back here." 

Stiles groaned. "And here I thought my morning couldn't get worse." 

"Be nice," she said admonishingly. "I know you two don't get along, but you know Ethan's been good for him." 

"Right. True love thawing a frozen heart and all that." He took a bite of his scone, but it tasted awful. He grabbed a napkin and spit into it, gagging slightly. "What the fuck," he said. "This tastes like shit." 

Lydia frowned and furrowed her brow. "That's strange. The scones here are delicious." Before Stiles could stop her, she tore off a bit of the scone from the other end and popped it in her mouth. She shot him an incredulous look. "I don't know what kind of hangover you're having, but your taste buds are obviously malfunctioning." 

He scrunched his nose and shoved it across the table towards her. She took it without comment, popping another bite in her mouth. "My morning just keeps getting better," Stiles said sarcastically. "Next my dad'll be telling me the blood on me this morning belonged to the dude I apparently hooked up with last night. That I don't remember." 

Lydia froze and her eyes widened at him. "You woke up with blood on you?" She asked seriously. "Where?" 

Stiles pointed to the area it had been, and her eyes glued to the spot. "It was weird," he said. "I think I must have rolled around in some dead animal while I was sleeping last night off in the woods." 

Lydia's eyes didn't leave his neck, but she reached forward to grab his arm. When she did, her attention flicked to Stiles' face. She looked him right in the eye, clearly frightened by something. "Lydia?" He asked tentatively. "You okay?" She said nothing, though, and Stiles found his attention drawn to her neck, which had a vein pulsing close to the surface as she focused on him. It enraptured his attention for a few moments until she pushed away from the table suddenly and got up. 

"We're leaving," she said as she gathered her purse and half-finished coffee and most of the scone. She stalked over and threw the coffee and scone into the trash as Stiles quickly scrambled to get everything he had together. He didn't throw his coffee out, but he rushed to follow his friend.

"Where are we going?" He asked as she stalked towards his Jeep. 

She didn't say anything as he unlocked the door for her and dashed to get in the driver's seat, but when he got the car started, she finally turned to him and said, "We need to see Talia Hale." 

***

Mayor Hale was the last person Stiles expected to have to see on a Saturday morning, but he wasn't exactly opposed to it either. He'd grown up around Talia given his dad's position as Sheriff, as well as her own friendship with his mother when he was a kid. He'd never really been close to any of her children, but he knew them from around town. 

He also knew about the fire that had claimed several of their family members when he was a kid. Talia's husband, as well as several extended family members, had been killed. It was later discovered that this horrific tragedy had been perpetrated by Kate Argent—who Stiles had met once through her niece, Allison. Scott and Allison had been silent about everything after the truth came out, but Stiles knew it had been a sore spot for her family. 

Driving up to the Hale family's rebuilt house was a little disconcerting, if only because he'd never been there. His mom had never taken him to the old house, either, and he was more than a little nervous about going inside. It wasn't that he was afraid of Talia, more that she intimidated him and he quite frankly didn't want to be responsible for ruining her Saturday morning. 

As he pulled into the driveway next to Laura's Camaro—which she still drove even though she was a hotshot defense attorney now and not the town's badass, leather jacket wearing bad girl extraordinaire—Stiles could almost feel eyes on him. He looked up towards the house and spotted more than a few curtains drawn to eye his Jeep. It was well known around town, so the people in the house must have known exactly who the noisy vehicle belonged to. 

Lydia got out of the Jeep as soon as he put it in park, and was up nearly to the door by the time Stiles had killed the engine. The door was thrown wide open before Lydia had even ascended the final step onto the front porch to reveal Talia Hale looking as sophisticated as one could in their pajamas. Her long brown hair was pinned up into a lazy bun that belied it still being rather early on a Saturday. Talia didn't even seem to notice Lydia ducking behind her to enter the house since her gaze was fixed determinately on Stiles, one eyebrow quirked in a silent question. 

Stiles took a deep breath and steeled himself before getting out of the car and heading towards the house. Talia seemed to take a deep breath for a second, her eyebrows furrowing as she looked him over. "Are you bleeding?" She asked as soon as he was close. 

Stiles frowned and shook his head. "No, and good morning to you, too, Mrs. Hale." 

Talia rolled her eyes. "Stiles," she admonished, "I tell you every time we see each other to call me Talia." She opened her arms anyway for the hug that had become customary for them over the years. She wasn't exactly a close family friend, but she'd known his mom, and that counted for something more than Stiles could quantify. "Good to see you," she said as soon as she released him from the hug, cupping the back of his head affectionately as she did. "I was glad to hear you graduated with honors." She stepped aside and gestured him into the house. 

He shrugged as he stepped into the foyer. "You know me," he said. "Can't help but go all out when a topic interests me. Lots more chance for that in college." The front door led immediately into a large living space with a staircase straight ahead, the living room making up the majority of the space to the left. The living room itself had a large sectional taking up the majority of the room, along with a rather sturdy coffee table across from a large flat-screen TV on an entertainment center. 

People were moving around upstairs, and there was a distinct clatter coming from the kitchen just past the living room, so it clearly wasn't too much of an imposition to be here so early. He still wasn't entirely sure why Lydia had asked him to come here. Years of knowing Cora had given him the distinct impression that he wouldn't be welcome, though that could have just been Cora. 

Lydia was nowhere to be seen, so he waited for Talia to close the door. She smiled softly at him and gestured further into the house. "Lydia is in the kitchen, so I imagine whatever it is she wants to discuss isn't sensitive enough to require privacy," she said, leading the way. "I'll admit, Stiles, it's a little shocking to see you here." 

Stiles followed as he gawked openly at the various things around the Hale House. He almost wanted to go snooping, but reigned the urge in with some difficulty. "Yeah," he said. "Lydia just kind of told me where we were going, so here we are." He shrugged. 

Talia shot him a confused glance as they entered the kitchen. Lydia was sitting in a little breakfast nook at the back of the kitchen on the bench seating surrounding a rather sizable table near a door leading into what looked to be a mud room. Laura was nursing a cup of coffee across from her, looking like she could sleep for another few hours. 

The most nerve-wracking person in the room, though, was Derek. Stiles had known him from around town for years, and was more than familiar with the scowl he was leveling at the unwelcome intruders into the kitchen. He was unfairly gorgeous—much like the rest of the Hale family—with dark hair that was still sleep-mussed, his light eyes not yet fully alert, even as he cooked. There was something disarmingly adorable about seeing him in his pajamas and being domestic.

Derek quirked one expressive eyebrow at Stiles, clearly curious as to why he was here. Stiles couldn't blame him, since he was just as curious. Stiles shrugged at Derek, trying to convey that he was just as confused about the situation. 

Derek looked at his mom finally. "I'm not cooking them breakfast," he said. 

Talia patted Derek on the shoulder as she passed by him on the way to the breakfast nook. "I don't think that will be a problem," she said, glancing at Stiles, who crossed his arms and shrugged. 

Derek glared at him again, but went back to cooking. Bacon, eggs, and toast from what Stiles could tell, which was basically the same thing Stiles had started to make earlier. Funny. 

Stiles followed after Talia, who had Laura shift further into the long bench that wrapped around the table. Lydia scooted in without being asked, so Stiles sat beside her. "What's this about?" He asked her when he settled. 

Lydia cleared her throat and looked at Talia, who had an eyebrow raised, clearly thinking the same thing. "Stiles is acting weird," she said simply. Stiles frowned, and was about to say something, but Lydia cut him off. "Weirder than usual." She glanced at Stiles apologetically. "He woke up covered in blood this morning." 

Stiles' eyes widened at that, glancing briefly across the table where the fucking mayor and a lawyer were seated. "What the fuck, Lydia?" He questioned. "Do you want me to go to prison? Because that's something that gets people accused of murder, Lyds. And this—" He gestured to himself. "Would get beat to all hell in prison! People want to punch me when they have the option to leave! God forbid when they’re stuck with me for any extended period!" 

Derek snorted from where he was cooking, and Stiles glared at the back of his head. Which was a mistake given how well-developed his back muscles were, which was especially evident in the thin t-shirt he was wearing, reminding Stiles exactly how jacked he was. The dude was seriously unfair. 

Talia quirked an eyebrow at Stiles when he returned his attention to her, and he blushed. She made no comment, though, and instead watched him intently. "You seem uninjured, Stiles, so where did the blood come from?" 

Stiles shrugged truthfully. Cat was out of the bag now, anyway. "I don't know," he said. "I just woke up in the preserve near my house. Must have passed out after we went a little too hard last night." 

Laura chuckled at that, then took a sip of coffee. "Somehow, it doesn't surprise me that of everyone in the pa—" Talia elbowed her in the side, and Laura cleared her throat. "In your friend group,” she corrected, “You were the one to get wasted enough to wake up in the preserve." 

Stiles scowled at her. "You say that like you know me," he said defensively. 

Laura chuckled. "I might as well with how much Scott and Erica talk about you." 

He furrowed his brow. "You know Scott and Erica?" They'd never mentioned knowing any of the Hales except for Cora, and Scott was supposed to be his best friend. They'd be having a serious conversation about this later. 

Talia tossed her daughter a look before interrupting. "Do you think someone or something attacked you last night, Stiles?"

The word "attack" triggered another memory for him. He clutched his neck as he felt the ghost of pain blooming there, the blond haired man from before biting into it, phantom rivulets of blood trailing down towards his shirt. 

When the memory ended and the ghost of the pain started to recede, he prodded tenderly at his neck where he was sure he'd been bitten hard enough to bleed. There was still no wound. He frowned and his heart started beating frantically. "I don't—" He tried. He had so many questions. How did he have no wound when he clearly remembered being injured? Why did the blond guy bite him like that? Why were the memories coming back like they were? He looked imploringly at Lydia. 

Lydia smiled sadly at him before turning back to Talia. "As soon as he came into the cafe this morning, I started getting a tickle in the back of my throat,” she explained. “I thought it was strange, but not strange enough to worry too much.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I touched him when he told me about the blood. I immediately sensed something off. Can you smell anything different about him?"

Stiles mouthed the word "smell" as he tried to discretely sniff his armpits. He didn't smell bad, so what was this about? Also, Talia was on the other side of the table, so how much could she really smell? Stiles was incredibly confused. 

Talia nodded at Lydia. "I'm fairly familiar with his scent by now, and there's a bit of spice that's been added since I last saw him. It's subtle enough that anyone who didn't know him would assume it was simply part of it, but I recognize it for what it is." 

"So it's what I thought?" Lydia asked, a hint of desperation bleeding in. "Is he in transition?" 

Stiles frowned. "What are you talking about?" He interrupted. "My scent? Excuse me? And 'in transition,' what does that mean? What's going on?"

Talia looked apologetic. "Stiles, this all is going to be a little difficult to explain," she said. "Do you remember when your friend Scott was bitten by a wolf your sophomore year of high school?"

Stiles nodded as he recalled the strangeness of the incident. "Yeah, it was weird because there are definitely no wolves in California. He showed it to me, but then he kind of dropped it. I’m not sure why." His brain started working in overdrive as he tried to connect that event with whatever was happening now, but he was coming up short. 

Talia nodded. "We approached Scott not long after your conversation with him, once Cora sensed that he’d been bitten.” She took a breath and watched his face carefully. “Stiles, he was bitten by a rogue Alpha Werewolf.” 

Stiles’ stomach dropped as the words registered slowly in his mind, connecting dot after dot as strange behaviors he’d written off in his friend group over the years started making more sense. He gulped, but before he could even formulate his thoughts into coherent speech, Talia continued. 

"I advised Scott to drop it with you,” she said, “But we were able to help him through the frankly messy situation. When you didn't push the issue, we felt it was smarter not to bring you into the fold. I apologize for asking your friend to keep such a secret from you, but secrecy is necessary for the supernatural community." 

Stiles gaped at her for a few moments as a laugh bubbled up in his chest. "You're werewolves?" He finally asked, glancing between Talia, Laura, and Derek, who met his eyes from in front of the stove. He looked back at Talia, whose eyes began to glow a piercing red, while Laura's went gold. Several things began clicking into place. They knew Erica. Erica had suddenly stopped having seizures sophomore year. Erica was close to Boyd and Isaac, who had both gained a ton of confidence around the same time. It was beyond belief, but somehow it felt like the truth. It settled the part of him that had questions about the weird things that happened in Beacon Hills. The unexplained cases that his dad was always getting stumped by. 

He shook his head and turned to Lydia. "You too? Are all my friends werewolves?"

Lydia huffed. "There are things besides werewolves," she said idly. "And no, I'm not a werewolf. I'm a Banshee." 

"A Banshee."

She shrugged. "Supernatural death detector." 

Stiles nodded numbly. "Right," he said. "Is anyone in our friend group human?"

Lydia shrugged. "Only Allison, really. Though she's trained to fight supernaturals. The Argents are a family of hunters." 

He shook his head and stood up. It was all a little much. He felt sick knowing his best friend had been keeping something like this from him for years—that all of his friends had. Why were they telling him this? And all of this had been going on for years under his nose? Did his dad know? He needed to leave. "I need to—" He said, "I have to go. I have to—" He scrambled to get out of the house, to get some air. His lungs were burning with the need to get out, to get away, to run. 

Derek grabbed his arm firmly as he tried to leave, and Stiles paused and looked him right in the eye. Something must have shown on his face, because Derek's gaze softened, but his grip stayed firm. "Let go of me, Derek," Stiles said. 

"No," Derek said, just as firm as his grip. 

Stiles tried to shy away from it, but Derek held fast. Frustrated, Stiles shoved at him and said, "Let go!" Stiles must have pushed harder than he'd meant to, because Derek got thrown back into the middle of the kitchen, collapsing onto his back. Stiles looked at him in shock, shaking slightly. Talia, Laura, and Lydia didn't look shocked, just concerned. "I'm sorry," he said to nobody in particular. "I'm sorry." 

He rushed out of the house as fast as he could, dodging around Cora when she came barreling down the stairs. Before she could say anything, though, Stiles was out of the door and hurtling towards his Jeep. He fumbled the keys out of his pocket and threw himself into the car. His hands shook as he started it, and he vaguely recalled his dad saying something about not driving while upset, but he ignored it. He needed to get away. He threw the Jeep in reverse and was heading back to town just as Derek and Talia appeared in the doorway, shouting something after him. 

***

He hadn't really meant to go to Scott's, but he found himself stopping Roscoe outside the house anyway. He wasn't even sure if Scott was home, but he needed to talk to his best friend. He sat in his Jeep for a few minutes before he got out and trudged up to the front door. He hadn't knocked in years—Melissa had even given him a key in high school—but he strangely felt like he needed to, so he did. 

Melissa answered the door fairly quickly, a perplexed look on her face. He vaguely remembered that she had the day off today. "Stiles?" She said. "Why didn't you just use your key?" She stepped aside to let him in. 

He took a hesitant step into the house, relaxing when he got inside. "I don't know," he answered honestly as she closed the door. "Is Scott home?"

She shook her head, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "Didn't he tell you he was looking at apartments with Allison today?"

He groaned. Of course Scott had told him. He'd just forgotten with the weirdness of the morning. "He did," he said. "I just forgot." He ran a hand through his hair and breathed out a heavy sigh. "I'll be honest, I just needed to talk to him. I found out he's been lying about something and I just—" He wiped a hand down his face. 

Melissa frowned and furrowed her brow, tucking her long, curly hair behind her ear. "Who told you that?" 

Stiles laughed, quick and maybe a little bitter. "Mayor Hale and Lydia, of all people." 

Melissa looked alarmed for a second. "You know," she said breathlessly. She closed her eyes and breathed out a quick breath through her mouth. "I told Scott he should have just told you. So many times." She shook her head and opened her eyes, her gaze going soft and apologetic. 

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. "You knew," he said. It wasn't even a question with how she was responding. "How did everyone keep something like this from me? For years?" 

Melissa looked away, looking a little ashamed. "It wasn't my secret to tell. But from what I understand, Talia asked that they keep it 'need to know' only."

"Then how'd you find out?"

Melissa laughed sharply. "Not by Scott's choice," she admitted. "He was forced to shift in front of me." She frowned. "Why'd they tell you?"

Stiles' hand shot to his neck, which he touched gingerly. "I think I got attacked by something last night," he said thickly. "I don't really know what's going on, but I feel weird." He choked back a sob as the words that had been building since he woke up this morning bubbled out. "Melissa, I'm scared." A couple tears rolled out and he tried to wipe them away quickly, but more spilled out. 

Melissa's face fell and she pulled him into a hug. He went easily, more grateful than he could convey for the comfort. Melissa had been like a third parent to him for a long time. She ran a hand up and down his back. "It's okay, sweetie," she said, her kind brown eyes soft. "You're gonna be okay." 

He buried his nose in her neck and sniffled, but froze when he did. She smelled good. Really, really good. He lifted his head from her shoulder as she continued to rub soothing circles into his back, but all he could pay attention to was her neck and the pulse under her skin. He felt drawn to it, and his stomach growled as he got closer. 

He snapped himself out of it, horrified with himself as he gently pushed her away. "I can't—" He walked backward until he hit the front door. He fell to the ground. "Get away from me," he begged. "You have to get away from me, I—"

"Stiles, what's gotten into you?" She moved forward with a hand out. She pulled back when he flinched away. "Stiles, talk to me." 

"I—" He wasn't sure how to put it into words without sounding crazy. He licked his lips. "I wanted to eat you," he admitted shakily. He pulled at his hair. "I don't know what's happening to me." 

Melissa's mouth drew into a fine line as she pulled out her phone. After a moment, she said, "Scott, you need to come home right now. Stiles is here and I'm worried about him." She paused. "Great. We'll see you two in a bit." She put her phone away and held her hands out in what he guessed was supposed to be a soothing gesture. "Scott and Allison are on their way here. They'll be here in a few minutes, okay? We'll figure this out." She kept scooting closer, and as she did Stiles found himself more and more drawn to the pulse he was beginning to hear under her skin, like a drumbeat echoing in his head, luring him in. 

He shook his head and tried to scramble up. "No, I can't—" He felt for the doorknob, his hands shaking. "I need to get away. I can't—I can't hurt any of you." He was full on crying, and it wasn't really helping his attempts to open the door. 

Melissa put a hand firmly against the door and knelt down next to him. "Stiles," she said. "You're okay, kiddo. I'm right here. We'll figure it out." She put her hand on his arm, and he was so desperate to get away from her, he pushed her back. 

She got thrown back several feet into a glass-topped table she used for decor in the entryway, which shattered with the force she hit it with. She hissed as her arm scraped on a shard of glass, causing a large dribble of blood to fall from the wound. She seemed stunned by what Stiles had done, so her focus was entirely on him. 

Stiles moved to crawl on his hands and knees, mesmerized by the red dripping onto the floor. As he moved toward her, Melissa moved back towards the living room. Stiles got to the first drops of blood on the floor and swiped them up with his fingers. He gently brought the intoxicating liquid to his mouth—its sweet tang assaulting his nostrils—and sucked it down. 

It was like a bomb was set off inside of him. It was ecstasy, contentment, and fulfillment all rolled into one. It was like the first bite of a large serving of curly fries alongside a juicy triple bacon cheeseburger from the diner he and his dad liked to frequent. He needed more. He was starving. 

He wiped more blood from the ground in his fervor to get more. He followed the drips to their source, and he looked into Melissa's terrified eyes and said, "I need to eat."

Her tenseness faded as she looked back at him and, as if in a trance, repeated, "You need to eat." She offered her arm out to him, and he took it gladly. He lowered his mouth down to her arm and sucked at the open wound. As he did, the euphoria increased until he felt his incisors sink past where they should have with some pain and into the soft flesh below, allowing more blood to come to the surface. He drank greedily, uncaring of where the meal was coming from. 

An image of Melissa holding him as they took his mother's body away flashed through his mind. Then, an image of her chastising him for breaking her window with a lacrosse stick. Then an image of the pride in her eyes as he and Scott took their graduation pictures together. He looked up at this woman who had been such an important figure in his life for years, terrified of him while he was hurting her. It made him sick. 

He shoved himself away from her, and as soon as he did, he began to choke. Blood dribbled down from his mouth to his shirt. Instinctively, he knew he had to get out of the house, so he dashed for the door—much too quickly, though his brain could hardly process it at the moment—and wrenched it open hard enough for the hinges to groan from the strain. He threw himself out of the house, only for his skin to start burning as soon as the sunlight hit his face. He screamed in agony and rushed for his Jeep, wrenching the back door completely off the car before he threw himself into the back seat and scrambled for the blanket he kept in the back. He threw it over himself, knowing it was exactly what he needed to do in that moment. 

With the darkness, the burning stopped, and he began to sob as he tried to wipe Melissa's blood from his mouth. 

***


	2. Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for some self hatred and thoughts that could absolutely be construed as self-harm oriented.  
> Also, any Vampire Diaries fans will see some differences between its portrayal of vampirism and this one. This is mostly my own attempt to "Teen Wolf-ify" the VD vampirism (since I love that show's Vamp Lore so much lol). There will be some differences, but my portrayal of vampirism is heavily inspired by the Vampire Diaries. 
> 
> If I missed any tags or anything that needs to be forewarned, please let me know. As always, enjoy! :)  
> \--------------------------------

Less than twenty minutes later, Stiles heard a car pull into the McCall driveway. Two doors opened and shut, and Stiles strained his hearing to overhear Scott say, "I smell blood. Mom!" Footsteps pounded against the sidewalk leading up to the McCall's front door, which opened. Strangely, Stiles could still hear them when they got into the house. 

"Scott," Melissa said shakily. "Stiles. He ran."

There was an animalistic growl before Scott said, "We can find him after we get you taken care of, mom. Allison, there's a first aid kit in my mom's bag. Should be in her room." 

"Are you sure we shouldn't just take her to the hospital?" Allison asked. 

"Deaton, maybe," Melissa said. "Since the bite mark might be a little hard to explain otherwise." 

"What bit you?" Scott asked. 

Melissa sighed. "Stiles," she said. "Something was going on with him. He was acting strangely, even for him. He said he'd just seen Talia, so maybe the pack knows what's going on with him." 

The three paused for a moment before Allison said, "The pack chat is blowing up. Everyone's looking for him." She gulped. "Scott, they say he's becoming a vampire." 

Stiles put a hand over his mouth as he sobbed again. It was just a confirmation of what he'd been starting to think, but it was somehow more real hearing someone else say it. He was a vampire now, and he had hurt someone he loved. He was a monster. 

"A vampire?" Scott said. "We saw him last night and he was fine!"

Allison tapped at her phone a bit more. "Looks like he was in transition when he left the Hale House. He must have come here to find you, but Melissa was home instead. Scott, if he fed from your mom, then he's completed the transition. He's a full vampire now, so he can't have gotten far while the sun's still up."

Scott seemed to mull this over for a moment before he spoke again. "Mom, I'm gonna carry you to the car now, are you ready?" Melissa must have given a nonverbal response, because Stiles could hear some shuffling as they got Melissa up and out of the house. A car door opened, and Melissa let out a grunt of pain before the door was closed again. "I'll take my mom to Deaton," Scott said, "You look for Stiles. Let the pack know what happened."

"Okay," Allison said. "I'll let you know when we find him." She paused as another car door opened. Before it could close, she said, "He's gonna be okay. He's still Stiles." 

Scott didn't say anything as he shut the door and started the car. Stiles' stomach dropped as Scott pulled out of the driveway in Allison's car. Scott had made no assurances that he knew that what Allison had said was the truth, no indication that he was remotely worried about Stiles' well-being. He understood, though. Despite having been nearly brothers for a large part of their lives, Stiles was someone who could fall out of Scott's favor easily. Now was absolutely one of those times. Stiles had hurt Scott's mom, after all. He honestly couldn’t blame him. 

As soon as the car had gotten out of the driveway, Stiles could hear footsteps getting closer to the Jeep. As they stopped just beside the door, Allison’s heartbeat began ringing in his ears, calling to him. He tamped down on that animalistic impulse inside of him as bile rose in his throat. 

“Stiles?” Allison said. “Are you in here?” If Stiles didn’t know any better, he’d say she sounded concerned. For him. For a monster. 

Something sharp poked him in the leg. “Ow,” he said reflexively, though it didn’t really hurt. “Was that a knife? What the fuck, Alli?” 

Allison laughed lightly. “It was an arrowhead,” she said. “Don’t be a baby. Now toss me your keys. Talia wants you back at the pack house.” 

Stiles dug into his pants pocket for the keys before tossing them carefully from under the cover of the blanket. “You know,” he said loudly as she made her way around to the driver’s side door, “So much about your family makes sense now. You’re way too much of a badass not to be using those skills doing something equally badass, like monster hunting.” 

She huffed as she started the Jeep. “I think we’ll have to leave the door you ripped off here,” she said, “ but I’m sure Derek would be happy to fix it.” 

Stiles groaned. “I just got her back from the shop, too.” 

Allison laughed from the front seat as she drove them to their destination. They were quiet for a minute, allowing Stiles’ anxieties to really surface and eat at him. “You’re not, like, taking me to a secondary location, right?”

Allison was quiet for a moment. “Secondary location?” 

“Y’know,” he said, gesturing even though she couldn’t see him, “To kill me.” 

Allison turned the car sharply, causing Stiles to hit his head into the door it was by. He rubbed his head as Allison said, “Stiles, if I wanted you dead, you would be by now.” 

His eyes grew wide at the confidence in her voice. He cleared his throat and squeaked out, “Good point.” He coughed awkwardly. 

She sighed. “I know you’re probably mad at yourself right now. Especially since we both know Scott’s not going to see this the way everyone else will. You didn’t have any control over what happened—you didn’t even know about the supernatural before today—but you still didn’t kill her.” She tapped her finger on the gear shift a couple times. “I think that counts for something, don’t you?”

If she was expecting a response to that, she didn’t show it. Silence fell upon the car as she took him towards the Hale House. Stiles couldn’t help but worry that he was being thrown to the wolves. 

***

Soon enough, the Jeep was stopping and Allison was getting out. Shortly after she did, Stiles was poked through the blanket. "Think you can keep that wrapped around you while I get you into the house?" Allison asked. 

Stiles gulped. "I think so," he said. "I think it was just bare skin that was affected, so if I keep my head and arms covered, I should be good." 

Allison helped him maneuver out of the car with only a small bit of burning on his ankle when the leg of his jeans pulled up a little. Once out of the car, though, it was a pretty easy time getting to the house itself. When they got to the door, though, they stopped. Allison opened the door and said, “Talia?” 

Stiles frowned at her from under his blanket and tried to head inside the already-open door, but found resistance as he tried to go in. “What the fuck?” He said. 

Somebody walked calmly towards the front entrance, then, and he heard Talia’s gentle voice say, “Please come in, Stiles.” 

As soon as she said that, Stiles stumbled forward as the force that was keeping his feet firmly planted outside went away. "I have to be invited to get into buildings now?" He whined.

Talia chuckled as she closed the door and he scrambled to get out of the blanket. It was nice to be able to see again, but he was immediately faced with a large group of people and he froze. He knew everyone already, of course. Laura, Derek, and their uncle Peter were the most unknown within the group, but he recognized everyone else. Erica and Boyd were cuddled in the corner of the sectional, with Isaac and Cora immediately next to them. Malia and Kira were tangled together, but Kira was talking animatedly with Lydia, who was steadfastly ignoring Jackson shooting her looks from the other side of the room. Derek and Laura were next to each other on the couch, while Peter was leaning against a wall, looking ready to bolt at the first sign the gathering was done. 

The most shocking person in the room, however, was one of his dad's deputies, Jordan Parrish. Parrish waved at him, a big smile on his face. He waved back awkwardly. Everyone's eyes drifted to him as he came more fully into the room, and he shifted awkwardly. "Hey guys," he said. He turned to Talia. "Is it safe for me to be out here unrestrained after I attacked Melissa?"

Several of the people in the room looked alarmed at that. "You attacked Melissa?" Talia said, frowning. "Is she okay?"

"Scott’s taking her to see Deaton," Allison said, moving to sit by Isaac. "We figured the bite mark would be a little tough to explain at the hospital." 

Talia pinched the bridge of her nose, but quickly regained her composure. "Well, I suppose we can take comfort in the fact that she didn't insist on the hospital," she said. "Melissa would have if it'd been necessary." She eyed Stiles warily. "I'm glad you were able to stop yourself from hurting her too badly. I know she means a lot to you."

Stiles gulped and wiped at his mouth again. There was still a little blood on his chin. He tried to wipe it away. He still felt awful about hurting someone he cared about. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to forgive himself for it. He wouldn't even blame Melissa if she hated him now. He knew Scott wouldn’t, at the very least. 

"I can't explain it," he said, shaking his head of the dark thought spiral it had been headed towards. "Until I fed, there was this irresistible hunger that just kept growing. It was like even people's pulses were enough to draw me in." 

Talia nodded. "Transition is a time when a vampire's instincts and abilities begin to manifest," she explained. "The transition gives you that extreme hunger and urge to feed because the magic responsible wants the transition to be completed. Now that you have, your control should come easier except outside of extreme circumstances." 

"Oh, thank God," Stiles said, running a hand through his hair. "I was afraid I was going to have the urge to murder my loved ones forever." 

Talia quirked her mouth into a small smile. "You seem to be doing fairly well now that you've fed," she remarked. "I would hope that indicates some natural control." 

Stiles shrugged. "It could also be easier right now since I'm in a room full of other supernatural creatures," he said. "I mean, can I even feed on werewolves? And that is a hell of a question that I never in a million years would have expected to have to ask before today."

Talia chuckled lightly. "I'm not sure, to be honest," she said. "It's something we can experiment with. Though not now. We have things to discuss." She gestured towards the couch, where the only available seat was between Lydia and Derek. 

Stiles gulped, but moved towards the spot anyway. He was uncomfortably aware that his shirt was at least a little stained with blood, and his mouth and neck weren't clean yet either. He turned to Talia before he sat down. "Shouldn't I clean up first? The smell of blood can't be pleasant." 

"We’re werewolves,” she said. “We’re rather used to it." She waved it off. "It'll be fine for the moment. This is too important to wait." 

Stiles nodded and moved to sit down. He wouldn't have much elbow room, but he was comfortable enough with Lydia that it wouldn't be a problem with her. Derek, however, might be a problem if he leaned too much into Stiles' space. There was only so much muscle he could bear to feel against him at once before he started thinking inappropriately. The man in question was scowling and pointedly not looking at him as he sat down. He moved carefully to lean more into Lydia's space than Derek's as he did. Stiles didn't particularly feel like eating either of them, so he took that to be a good sign. 

When he got settled, Talia cleared her throat and moved to stand in front of the TV so she garnered everyone's attention. It wasn't hard given she had a presence that commanded respect. "Now," she said to her gathered pack, "Everyone is aware that Stiles was turned into a vampire last night." She gestured to him. "Obviously, this means that there's a vampire in town who is not only hunting, but turning humans. Given that the vampire didn't stay with Stiles to complete his transition, I expect that either this individual did not intend to turn Stiles, or else they did so with a specific goal in mind." She glanced over the assembled members of the pack. "Given what I know of last night, I suspect the vampire targeted Stiles while you were clubbing." Her attention moved to Stiles. "What do you remember?" 

Stiles shrugged. "Bits and pieces," he admitted. 

An image flashed in his mind of last night, then. The blond guy he'd remembered a couple of times already was facing him full on, blue eyes looking into his. "You're going to drink until you're stupid," the guy had said, "And then you're going to forget everything we do together." The guy grinned, wide and predatory. 

Stiles shook his head as the memory cleared. "He told me to drink a lot, and to forget him." He looked down and fiddled with his hands. "I think I did something like that to Melissa on accident." 

Talia sighed. "Compulsion," she explained. "Vampires have the ability to perform a sort of mind control when they look into a human's eyes. Your memories are returning since you're a vampire now, but the amount he had you drink ensured you wouldn't remember much anyway." 

"Then this was actually premeditated?" Lydia cut in. "Is it possible Stiles was targeted for his association with the pack? Or for who his father is?" 

Stiles blanched at that. If this person thought they could use him to get to his dad, that meant his dad was in danger. He made to get up, desperate suddenly to protect his father, but Derek threw a hand out and gently kept him in place without looking. It allowed Stiles a moment to shake off the urge to check on his dad. Though he did send a check-in text, which his dad immediately responded to, allowing him to relax. He smiled at Derek in a silent thanks, which was met with a simple nod before their attention went back to the front of the room. 

Talia shrugged. "We can't say that for certain," she said. "Would anyone who was out with Stiles last night be able to identify the man he spent the evening with?" Erica and Malia raised their hands. It was rather unsurprising for Erica to have noticed the guy he'd been with, but Malia's attention to the situation surprised Stiles a little. It was oddly touching that she'd been looking out for him. Unless she'd just paid attention to be nosy, which was equally as likely. 

"Good," Talia continued. "I'll have you two out on patrol in town to see if we can identify him. If this man was intelligent enough to target Stiles for his connections, not to mention to premeditate his turning, then we have to assume he could be a Daywalker." 

Stiles raised his eyebrows. "There are vampires that can walk in the sun?"

Talia smiled. "Yes," she said, "But it requires a magic user who trusts you enough to make a Daylight Ring for you. I'm sure our Emissary would be willing once you prove you can handle yourself around humans." 

“Emissary?” 

“An advisor to the pack who specializes in magic. I believe you may know him. Dr. Alan Deaton?”

He shook his head as he tried to assimilate the information that the town’s quiet veterinarian was also some kind of magical advisor. Honestly, it might have been the strangest thing he’d learned all day. Which was saying a lot. 

Stiles nodded after a moment, but worried at his bottom lip a little bit, bothered by some pieces of the puzzle that weren't quite sitting right with him. "I know we're working under the assumption that this guy did this because of who I am," he said. "But if that's the case, why did he leave me to fend for myself this morning?"

Talia chewed this over for a moment. "Excellent point," she said. "If he was planning to use you for your connections, it would make more sense for him to be more of an active participant in your transition." 

"Exactly," Stiles said. "So what if he's just randomly turning people? Or what if it was an accident, like you said? He'd have reason to make sure I forget everything if he was feeding on me. Plus, the drinking could have just been part of the fun." He shifted to the edge of the couch and leaned forward. "How exactly do you turn someone into a vampire, anyway?" 

Talia crossed her arms. "A human has to die with vampire blood in their system," she explained. "It happens by accident sometimes because vampire blood has the ability to heal humans." 

"So," Stiles said, "Maybe he convinced me to go into the preserve to make out, maybe feed a little. Then, he gives me a bit of blood to heal the bite wound and mind controls me to head home and clean up the mess." He gestured to himself. "Obviously he didn't account for the walking disaster that is Stiles Stilinski, so maybe I just died walking through the preserve drunk off my ass." 

"What," Jackson cut in, "Like you tripped and snapped your own neck?" He snorted. "That definitely tracks." 

Stiles glared at him. "Never change, Whittemore," he said sarcastically. "The point is, we can't know the guy's intentions for sure. All we can do is find him and hope this was a fluke." 

Talia nodded. "You're right about that," she admitted. "Regardless, we need to identify this vampire." She turned to the pack members in turn. "Now that you've all smelled what a vampire who's recently fed smells like, it might be easier to pick it up. Compare Stiles' scent now to last night, and pay attention to that difference." She paused and pursed her lips. "Also, until further notice, nobody goes anywhere alone." This was met with some grumbles, but she silenced them with a hand. "I understand this is inconvenient, but vampires are stronger than individual wolves. Vampires are solitary by nature, but make no mistake that some of them are stronger than even an Alpha. The older this vampire is, the stronger he will be, so take strength in the numbers that pack provides. Stay in touch, and if anyone finds anything, I expect to be notified immediately." She waved a hand. "You all know what must be done, so you're dismissed." 

The room erupted in movement, then, as everyone got up and started on their respective duties. From the murmured discussions, Stiles was able to ascertain what was happening. Erica, Boyd, Malia, and Kira set out to go on patrol in town, while Isaac, Cora, Peter, and Jackson went into the preserve. Derek and Laura went into the kitchen—though Derek hovered for a moment in the doorway—leaving Talia, Stiles, Allison, Lydia, and Parrish. 

Allison tucked her phone into her pocket as the final departures took place. "Scott says his mom's okay, but that she needs rest," she said. "Deaton's on his way over while Scott stays with his mom." 

Talia nodded. "Thank you, Allison," she said. "Why don't you head over there. Scott will no doubt want his mate by his side, and Melissa will no doubt need you to keep him in check while she recovers.” 

Allison laughed lightly at that, but nodded and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I’ll see you all later,” she said. She held a hand up in a wave—which Stiles returned—smiled, and walked towards the front door. 

Once Allison left, Parrish came up to the remaining group gathered around the sectional. "So," he said, "How are we handling the Sheriff?" 

Stiles frowned. His first instinct was that his dad should never know—it'd be easier and far safer to keep his dad out of the supernatural than to try to keep his dad from getting involved with dangerous supernatural situations—but they'd gotten better about the lying and the secrets over the past few years, and Stiles didn't particularly want to go backwards with that. He bit his lip, tasting a bit of blood still on it. He let it go as soon as he did. He didn't particularly need a reminder of what a monster he'd become, the harm he was now capable of. "I think he deserves to know," he said to Talia. "I don't want to have to lie to him. Especially since it's gonna be pretty noticeable that I stopped aging." He glanced around at the other three. "I did stop aging, right? Like, that's actually part of it?" 

Talia nodded sadly. "Yes, Stiles," she said. "You'll be exactly like this for the rest of your life. Whether that's ten years from now or a hundred." 

Stiles groaned. "This guy couldn't have waited until after I actually followed through on my resolution to go to the gym?" 

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Please, Stilinski. You never would have gone through with it and you know it." She turned her attention to Talia. "He's right, though. His dad's bound to notice when Stiles shows up to his thirtieth birthday party looking like he's still in his early twenties." 

Talia grimaced, but nodded. "You're both right," she said. "I admit it's time Noah was made aware of this. I know I've been a bit paranoid over the past few years, but if anyone deserves my trust, it's your father." 

Stiles smiled softly. His dad was a good man, and anyone that knew him knew that. He'd had no doubt before that Talia respected him, but he was glad to see that she trusted him, too. "Can I be the one to tell him? I kind of have to, like, 'come out of the coffin' to him anyway. It might soften the blow." He laughed. "When I came out as bi, I softened the blow by admitting to underage drinking." His dad had been so angry about the drinking that he'd had more time to process the coming out before saying anything about it. Stiles liked to think it helped, even though his dad had told him it wouldn't have mattered. 

Talia huffed a small laugh. "I would recommend you have the conversation sooner rather than later, but we should make sure you can control yourself before then." She turned to Parrish. "Jordan, you're welcome to go back to the station. Thank you for your time."

Parrish gave her one of his award-winning smiles and headed out, saying goodbye and waving to Lydia and Stiles as he did. When the door closed, Stiles turned to Talia. "Is he a werewolf, too?"

"Hellhound," Lydia offered. "Think of it like a supernatural police officer."

Stiles whistled. "Police officer squared," he said. "I knew he was too pretty to be human." He shrugged. "So, what's the game plan?"

"Lydia and I will be helping you figure out how to be a vampire, at least to the extent that we can," Talia said. "You have powers, so you'll need to learn to control them before you have any hope of being around humans." She gestured to Lydia. "Lydia is our resident research expert and is always interested in learning about new kinds of supernaturals, while I have practical experience dealing with vampires as both enemies and allies." 

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "You have vampire friends?" 

Talia quirked her lips into a small smirk. "A few," she said. “Which brings me to my next point. After you left earlier, I got in touch with a few of my contacts to see if any would be willing to come to Beacon Hills to help, and one of my contacts in Washington said that he and his fiancé would be willing to come train you.” 

Stiles raised his eyebrows at that. “They’re making a special trip to California just to train me? They really don’t have to do that.” 

Talia waved it off. “It’s no trouble, really. Adrien and I have been meaning to catch up for a while. Besides, there aren’t any vampires in Beacon Hills to teach you, and Adrien’s family are the Hale Pack’s closest vampire allies.” She shrugged. “You have a place in this pack if you want it, Stiles, but we recognize that you have different abilities and needs than we do. I fear most of the training we give to new pack members tends to be rather werewolf-oriented.” She smiled slyly at this, which made Stiles smile. “Regardless,” she continued, “They should be here tomorrow afternoon.” 

Stiles frowned at that. “Not that I don’t appreciate their help, but there must be something in this for them. Nobody drops everything to help a stranger like that.” 

Talia smiled sadly at that. “The world of the supernatural is one rife with hidden agendas. My best guess would be that they hope to offer you a place among their family. While Beacon Hills would be sad to see you go, the option would be available to you nonetheless.” 

Something unsettled deep within him at the idea of leaving his family and friends—the people he cared for more than anything. But in the end, would it really be a choice? Would they even all still want him here, now that he wasn’t human? Vampires and werewolves weren’t supposed to get along, right? So would they be able to stand having him around anyway? He wanted desperately at that moment for his friends to have never gone out drinking last night, for him to have never met the blond creep that had turned him, and for him to have still been human. 

God, did he wish he was still human. 

Instead of voicing any of that, though, Stiles said, “So, questions. I know I’ve got vampire lessons on the horizon, but I’m curious about some stuff.”

Talia nodded. “Of course, I’m happy to provide any knowledge I have.” She gestured slightly towards Lydia, as well. “Lydia, I believe this is your first time coming across a vampire, too, am I right?”

“That I know of,” Lydia allowed. “I’ve been to LA a few times since my dad moved there. I’m honestly half-convinced a few of his friends might be vampires.” She shrugged. “Besides, I’ve read all about them in the bestiaries from the vault, plus the Argent bestiary. I’m definitely the more informed of the two of us.” She flipped her hair behind her casually, reminding Stiles exactly what had drawn him to her back when she’d been his all-consuming middle and high school crush. That she had poured over several bestiaries amassing as much information from them as she could was such a classic Lydia move. When she didn’t know something, she found the information herself. Her unyielding thirst for knowledge was part of why he loved her as much as he did. Especially in this moment, when she likely knew more about what was happening to him than any of his other friends. 

Talia hummed thoughtfully. “I’m not surprised,” she said. “Stiles, what questions do you have? Between my experience and Lydia’s research, I expect we can answer a few of them.” 

Stiles thought for just a moment before asking his first question. “Is there a way to protect people from, y’know.” He indicated himself. “Me?”

Talia’s shoulders slumped a little at that and she smiled at him a little sadly. “I believe Alan has a stock of vervain growing in his garden,” she said. “Vervain is a plant that behaves a little like wolfsbane does for werewolves. It’s toxic to vampires when ingested, to be sure, but it’s also painful for your kind to touch. In addition, it prevents compulsion when either ingested or carried. Some people affix a bit of dried vervain to a piece of jewelry or a locket and keep it on their person to prevent compulsion, but ingestion is a lot more failproof.” 

Lydia nodded. “Many supernatural creatures are immune to compulsion,” she said, “But ingestion can still make the blood toxic to vampires.” She turned to Talia. “Should we ask Deaton for a supply for the pack? It might be helpful if we have to fight the vampire that did this.” 

Talia nodded thoughtfully. “Alan should be bringing a bit for the Sheriff, and I trust he’s already given some to Melissa. If his supply isn’t enough to cover the pack, I imagine I could ask Adrien to pick some up before his flight tomorrow. Spokane has a few rather large witch covens that I know he’s allied with.” 

Lydia raised her eyebrows at that. “Witches and vampires in an alliance? Don’t most witches hate vampires?” 

“Yes,” Talia said, smiling slightly, “As most werewolves and vampires have similar animosity. The situation in Spokane is rather unique, but that’s a story for Adrien to tell.” 

Stiles was fascinated by everything he was learning, even if it wasn’t all practical. Any knowledge was beneficial knowledge, in his book. He couldn’t wait to pick an actual vampire’s brain about everything. “Wait, so how many kinds of supernatural creatures are there out there?”

Talia’s eyes gleamed and she glanced at Lydia. “We’ll let you look over the various bestiaries in our collection at some point,” she said. “But I’m sure you’ll come across your fair share yourself. Beacon Hills is rather well known for that.” 

Lydia huffed. “If we ever have to face another Kanima or Darach again, it’ll be too soon.” She quirked her head at Stiles. “High school was a bit of a shitshow, even with Talia leading the charge.” 

Stiles shrugged. “I mean, with the supernatural involved I can’t imagine it was easy.” He looked between the two of them. “I mean, everything I’ve experienced so far hasn’t exactly been flowers and sunshine.” 

Talia nodded sorrowfully. “I apologize for that, Stiles,” she said. “In time, you will find that the situation you find yourself in may come with drawbacks, but there are a few benefits as well. You’ll find that you’re faster, stronger, and more agile than you ever could have been as a human. Your senses are heightened, much like a wolf, and you’re now incredibly resilient and quick to heal.” As if in demonstration, Talia flicked a hand out—a single claw popping out as she did—and slashed at Stiles’ cheek. 

“Ow!” Stiles yelped, jumping back from her and bringing his hand to his face. He seethed at her with his teeth exposed for the briefest of moments. His canines itched as fangs appeared and his instincts yelled at him to fight and to kill. He was able to tamp down on them with the thought that despite their not being close, he didn’t want to actually hurt her. He breathed deeply and held onto that desire not to hurt for a moment to center himself. When he was back with himself fully, he pulled his hand away as his fangs receded and found that his hand was bloodied. As soon as he registered fully that he’d been hurt enough to bleed, though, he felt a tingle in his cheek—where he imagined the wound was—as it knit itself closed. “What the fuck?” 

Lydia was looking at him curiously. “Was that the true face that the bestiaries talked about?” She asked, moving closer and examining his face. 

Talia nodded, though Stiles was confused. He accepted Lydia’s pokes and prods with grace, though. “I imagine it appeared at the display of aggression from another supernatural predator,” Talia said. “The vampire’s true face, even in trained vampires, is a dead giveaway that mostly shows itself in moments of hunger. A well-fed vampire can keep the true face at bay, and training can allow them to show it at will in a sort of intimidation tactic. But an untrained vampire like you, Stiles, will have difficulty controlling it. Unfortunately that will have to be something you practice with Adrien.” 

Stiles nodded and gulped. “What— what did it look like?” 

Lydia looked at him calculatingly. She turned her head to Talia. “Hunger or the temptation of a feed should activate it, right?” 

Talia nodded, a sly smile forming. She pulled her phone from her pocket. “Vampires—contrary to popular belief—can be seen in pictures and mirrors,” she said. She held the camera up as Lydia approached Stiles with her neck bared. 

Stiles really didn’t like the direction this was going, but trusted that Talia would stop him if he truly posed a danger. So he allowed himself to briefly get caught up in the allure of Lydia’s pulse—the drumming and the heated rush of blood he could almost smell coursing through her veins. His fangs dropped again, but as soon as he heard the shutter of the camera, he tamped down on the animalistic urges inside of him with the reminder that he cared about Lydia a great deal and he would never let himself hurt someone he cared about. Not again. He breathed in and out as if coming down from a panic attack, focusing all the while on his father, on Melissa, on everyone he loved. The fangs receded rather quickly thanks to that. 

Talia hummed thoughtfully. “It’s astonishing how easily you’re finding control,” she said. “What are you using to anchor yourself to your humanity?”

Stiles gulped and looked down. “I don’t want to hurt anyone else I love. I’d rather die than let that happen again.” He chanced a glance at Lydia, who looked thoughtful. Before anyone could say anything, though, he said, “Can I see the picture?”

The other two let it drop, but Talia offered her phone to him. What he saw when he took it nearly had him drop the thing, though. 

As he looked at the picture, he could tell who it was—there were only two areas of his face that were affected by the "true face" thing, his mouth and his eyes—but it was a little unsettling to see what both was and wasn't him. He knew he was still the same person, but he couldn't help but feel a loss at becoming something other than the human he'd always been. 

He studied the picture carefully, trying to memorize this new version of himself. The mouth really only had the addition of the fangs, which was unsurprising given the vampire thing. What was most noticeable was how the true face changed his eyes. His irises glowed a brilliant blood red, ringed at the edge by black that could have been mistaken for glowing, too. The whites of his eyes were intensely bloodshot, while dark veins snaked up from the top of his cheeks to his eyes. He looked like a monster. His stomach churned at the sight of the beast that had hurt Melissa. Her blood still stained his face and clothes. 

He turned away from Talia’s phone as she took it back, grinding his teeth and trying again to wipe the blood away. "Sorry," he said. He chanced a glance at Lydia, then Talia. Both of them looked more concerned than frightened. "Just not used to being a creature of the night yet." He shook his head. "Is there a bathroom I can wash up in? I know we were in the middle of things, but I feel like I need to shower." 

Talia smiled softly at him. "Of course, Stiles," she said. "I'll show you the way, then we'll see if we can't find you some clean clothes." She glanced at Lydia before heading for the stairs. 

Stiles mumbled a quick, "See you later, Lyds," before quickly following Talia, careful not to look anywhere but towards the floor. He felt like a monster, and he didn't want to expose his friends to that right now. He'd protect them at all costs. Even from himself. 

***

Talia showed him to the second floor bathroom that the three Hale siblings shared, grabbing a towel for him from the linen closet on the way. She left him to his own devices in there, assuring him she'd find some clothes for him by the time he got out. He gave her a small smile, closed and locked the door, turned around, and gently pushed himself against the door. 

He closed his eyes and breathed for a few moments, taking in the muffled sounds from downstairs that he didn't care to focus on, the gentle hum of the lights in the bathroom, and the soft thud of his own heart in his chest. He'd been struggling to think of himself as anything more than a monster since he'd attacked Melissa—couldn't help but think of becoming a vampire as nothing more than a curse. But in the quiet of the bathroom, listening to his own heart beating, he was still glad to be alive. Well, kind of alive, at least. 

He just wondered how he could ever face Melissa again. Or if she'd want anything to do with him after what he'd done to her. Would she flinch every time he moved while around her now? Would she see his face and only see the monster underneath? Would she refuse to even see him?

Scott for sure wanted nothing to do with him. He honestly wasn’t sure if the man who’d nearly been his brother for most of their lives would ever even look at him again, let alone want him around. 

Had he just lost some of the most important people to him? 

As his heart squeezed unpleasantly at the thought, he forced himself to strip out of his clothes. The jeans were still okay and he might be able to salvage the plaid over-shirt, but the white t-shirt was definitely stained. He hoped there was a way to exist now without ruining his wardrobe multiple times a day, but given all the blood involved in his new existence, it seemed unlikely that this shirt would be the last victim of an unfortunate stain. 

He caught his reflection in the mirror above the counter that ran along the length of the wall opposite the toilet and shower. It was almost impossible to exist in this bathroom—which he hadn’t really examined when he got in here, oops—without being forced to face his own reflection. Looking at the monster in the mirror with blood on his face made him wish the old myth about vampires and reflections really was true. 

He tore his gaze away from the mirror and stepped into the shower. He didn’t care that the water was cold as he turned it on, just glad for the distraction. Without waiting for the water to warm up, he scrubbed at his skin with his fingernails. He would have used the pumice stone that clearly belonged to either Laura or Cora, but he felt that using it to scrape blood off of him would be making himself a bit too at home. Rubbing his skin raw would have been nice, though. Even so, he tried his damndest to do it with just his hands as the water warmed up. 

Melissa’s blood circled the drain as he cleaned it off. The fact that it was Melissa’s kept circling around in his mind in time with the water draining away. It made him scrub harder. A few silent tears mixed in with the blood. He couldn’t stop running through the events of the day. How stupid he’d been not to stay at the pack house earlier. How stupid he’d been to even go out last night and get himself in this situation in the first place. 

He stood there—thoughts spiraling out of control—for a while. The water ran clear and the tears stopped flowing, but he still couldn’t bring himself to get out. Even as he pruned and the water ran ice cold, he couldn’t face the man in the mirror again. The monster in the mirror. 

He finally turned the water off and just stood there, dripping icy water. A few droplets collected on his eyelashes, so he wiped them off and down his face. The wolves would likely realize he was done with his shower. With that in mind, he kept his eyes low and got out. 

“There’s some clothes just outside the door,” Laura’s voice filtered in from outside. Though she seemed to be speaking softly, he could still hear her perfectly. He imagined it was the heightened senses Talia had mentioned. That explained being able to hear Scott, Allison, and Melissa earlier. “They might be a little big, but they should work.” 

“Thanks,” he said, voice scratchy. He cleared his throat and repeated, “Thank you.” 

After her footsteps receded, he opened the door to quickly grab the clothes. They seemed to have given him a pair of baggy gray sweats and a simple gray t-shirt. Grabbing his boxers from the pile of his own clothes that he’d left on the ground, he put on the borrowed sweats and shirt. Laura was right that they were a little big on him, but that wasn’t the end of the world. He pulled the drawstring on the sweats and tied it tight, so they at least wouldn’t fall down. Satisfied that he was presentable, he unlocked the door and stepped out in the hopes of asking Talia what he should do with the bloodied clothes. He wouldn’t doubt the wolves had a decent way to get the blood out, at least. 

As soon as he stepped out of the bathroom, though, he bumped immediately into a rather firm surface. “Oh,” he said immediately, “Sorry about—”

“Why are you wearing my clothes?” Derek asked. Stiles frowned at the scowly murder-brows before him. Derek’s nose scrunched up in clear distaste. 

Stiles sighed. “Laura gave them to me,” he explained. “Mine are bloody.” He made to go back into the bathroom. “I can probably just wear them or—”

“No,” Derek said, still scowling. “It’s fine. Just don’t get blood on them.” 

Stiles huffed, annoyed. “Trust me, I don’t intend to do anything like that ever again.” 

Derek’s face turned constipated. “That’s not—” He tried. He huffed. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. 

“Then how did you mean it?” Stiles challenged, brow furrowed. 

Derek crossed his arms over his honestly impressive chest. It was a little distracting, since it also pumped his arms. “Not like— Like that,” he said. “Just—look, I just want you to be careful.” 

Stiles nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll try not to go full vamp and kill anyone in your clothes.”

Derek’s eyebrow twitched. He looked rather annoyed. Stiles had that effect on people, but he didn’t think he was being particularly annoying right now. Derek’s nose flared, and the sour expression returned. “Just be careful,” he reiterated. 

Stiles rolled his eyes and tried to edge past the slightly taller man. “Noted,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to your mom.” 

Derek moved aside, but grabbed Stiles’ arm before he could go. Stiles flicked his attention to Derek’s face. His true face bubbled under the surface slightly in a way he thought might show itself in the veins under his eyes pulsing. Derek watched him for a moment—expression intent—before releasing Stiles and continuing towards the opposite end of the hallway. Likely in the direction of his bedroom, if Stiles were to guess. 

He honestly couldn’t make heads or tails of the entire interaction, but he had bigger things to worry about at the moment. Like how he might even begin to tell his father about everything. He groaned at the prospect before trudging towards the stairs to face whatever came next in what had so far been a shitshow of a day. 

***


	3. Weirdness

When Stiles got to the bottom of the stairs, he shook himself out of the weird headspace the interaction with Derek had placed him in. He had to focus on what came next, what with vampire training and coming out to his dad—again—as well as figuring out who had done this to him and why. He had a lot going on and it was a little overwhelming how much his world had changed in the last few hours. 

Stiles was so caught up in his own thoughts and worries that he almost didn’t notice that there was a conversation going on in the kitchen. He made his way in that direction, but tried to focus on the sounds enough to catch any juicy tidbits. He’d always been a little nosy, anyway, so sue him. 

“—can’t interfere,” Talia said as Stiles got close to the kitchen, “He’s going to have to figure this out for himself.”

“We both know a rock with googly eyes is more charming than he is,” Laura said. “If I could just—”

“No,” Talia interrupted, firmly but not unkindly. “Derek will do this his own way, in his own time. That’s the way it has to work.” 

Stiles entered the room just then, thoroughly confused about what they might have been talking about. It was obvious it was about Derek, at least, but the rest of it was vague as hell. Better to just interrupt now than to be caught snooping, anyway. Even if he was curious. “He’s never going to—” Laura said, but cut herself off when she finally noticed Stiles coming in. Both she and Talia looked like a deer caught in headlights at Stiles’ entrance. 

Talia was quick to recover, even if Laura was still staring at him like she’d been caught stealing from the cookie jar. “All clean?” Talia asked. 

Stiles shrugged. “The blood’s off, at least,” he said, trying his best to ignore Laura’s weirdness. “I don’t suppose you have some extra special method of getting blood out of clothes? What with the—” He pantomimed clawing at someone and gnashed his teeth together exaggeratedly. 

Talia chuckled and turned to Laura, gave her a pointed look, and said, “Laura, would you please gather Stiles’ clothes from the bathroom and take them to the laundry room? I can deal with them shortly.” The thought of Talia taking care of Stiles’ clothes for him was so “mom” that it choked him up a little bit, but he was able to tamp down on it with practiced ease. 

Laura seemed to finally shake herself out of it and cheerfully said, “Yep!” She smiled brightly at Stiles before bounding off to fulfill the request. 

With yet another Hale acting weirdly out of sight and, thus, out of mind for the moment, Stiles turned to Talia. “So,” he said, clapping his hands together, “What’s next, oh mighty Alpha, mine?”

Talia seemed to preen at that slightly, but quickly adopted that calm, collected, neutral persona she seemed to take when she was Alpha-ing. “My Emissary—Dr. Deaton, as I mentioned earlier—will be here shortly. I believe he stopped by his house on the way to grab some more vervain, since he only keeps so much at his clinic. I’ve also asked him to help assess the state of your control.” 

Stiles nodded enthusiastically. A game plan was something he could work with, and this seemed to be something that could occupy him for the next little while, at least. “Cool,” he said. “I haven’t been feeling particularly murder-y, so let’s hope that counts for something, right?”

“We should hope so, Mr. Stilinski,” Dr. Alan Deaton said from behind him. 

Stiles startled and threw a hand over his heart as he turned to face the doctor. “Jeez, doc,” he said, “Damn near gave me a heart attack. We need to put a bell on you, I swear.” 

Deaton raised an eyebrow at that, but otherwise remained as impassive as he’d always been in the years Stiles had known him through Scott’s work at the vet clinic. “Alpha Hale,” he said with a slight bow to Talia. “I have the vervain you requested.” He set a plastic grocery-bag with purple flowers sticking out of it on the counter. 

Talia smiled politely at that. “Thank you, Alan,” she said. “How’s Melissa doing?” Stiles tensed at that, gutted by the reminder of what he’d done before tamping down on it. He could revisit his guilt later. 

Deaton’s eyes flicked to Stiles momentarily. “The wound was not much of an issue, to be honest,” he said. “Quite frankly, it’s not the worst injury she’s acquired in her dealings with the supernatural.” 

Stiles relaxed minutely, but knew the guilt would still eat at him later, once he could break down about it all. He darted his tongue out briefly to wet his lips. He could almost taste the ghost of Melissa’s blood on them. “So she’s okay?” He asked. 

Deaton nodded. “She’s alright, Mr. Stilinski,” he said. “Frankly, she’s more concerned for you. How are you adjusting?”

“You mean with the whole ‘becoming a blood-sucking creature of the night’ thing?” Stiles clarified. “Or with the ‘the supernatural is real and everyone you know seems to know about it already’ thing?” 

Deaton quirked his lips slightly at that. “Well, then,” he surmised. He studied Stiles for a few moments. “When I surprised you just then, Stiles, what did you feel?”

Stiles furrowed his brow. “I mean, startled?” He said. “Why?” He turned to Talia. “Was I supposed to feel something else?” 

“There is no right or wrong answer, Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton said. “I ask because some new vampires—from my understanding—can become rather violent very easily. You’re still new to the instincts and impulses that arise with vampirism, so it would stand to reason that you could have struggled to keep those at bay.” He quirked his head slightly. “Talia tells me you’ve been doing exceedingly well with your control. Is this your experience, or has it been something you’ve had to fight for?”

Stiles shrugged. “Sometimes it takes a second to fight back, but I think about the people I care about and I calm down.” 

Deaton nodded sagely. “As I suspected,” he said. “It is not a well known fact, but when a person becomes a vampire, their traits and emotions become amplified.” He paused for a moment, gaze searching. “You have always been rather protective of certain people, have you not?”

Stiles nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I mean, isn’t everyone?” 

“Think about someone you care very deeply for,” Deaton said. “Your father, for instance. How would you say you feel about him at this moment?” 

Stiles focused on how he felt about his father, and in so doing caused a burning and fervent warmth to fill his chest. He choked up a little bit, but was able to answer a soft, “I love him.” 

Deaton nodded encouragingly. “And if I were to tell you your father was in danger?” He flicked his eyes to Talia with an unreadable look in his eye. 

At the thought of his dad in danger, Stiles’ heart began beating faster and an unpleasant fluttering filled his stomach to the brim. Bile rose in his throat as the concern washed over him. He made to move, to go to his car so he could check on his dad and protect him if need be, but Talia gripped his shoulder from behind him and held firm. He looked back at her, anger flaring in his gut at being kept from his father. “Let me go,” he seethed, true face slipping on instinctively at the perceived threat. 

“Your father is fine, Stiles,” Talia said kindly. It relaxed him slightly, allowing the true face to slip away. He still really wanted to see his dad, though. “It was merely a hypothetical.” 

Stiles shot off a quick check-in text with his dad anyway. He frowned as soon as he sent it, though, starting to see what Deaton was saying. “I’m going overboard, aren’t I?” 

Talia held up a hand and pinched her fingers close together. “Little bit,” she said. She turned to Deaton. “That’s good, though, right? If he wants so desperately to protect people, he’ll be more likely to maintain control?”

Deaton shrugged. “That remains to be seen,” he said. “Stiles, I would like for you to think of Ms. Fairmont, from Fairmont Books in town. What do you feel when you think of her?” 

Stiles shrugged truthfully. “I mean I don’t really know her,” he said, “But I know of her. I don’t want to eat her, necessarily, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He shrugged again. “Indifferent, I guess.” 

Deaton nodded, while Talia frowned. “And if I were to tell you that I read a story in the paper this morning about a child who was kidnapped and murdered several states away? How do you feel about that?”

“That sucks,” he said flatly, “But what does it have to do with me?” He looked between Talia and Deaton expectantly. Talia glanced at Deaton, brow furrowed, but Deaton looked back at Stiles as if he was waiting for something. Stiles flung his hands out, trying to urge someone to say something, but gears started to turn in his head as he played through what he’d just said again. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, at a bit of a loss as to where the apathy he’d apparently felt had come from. Had he always cared so little for strangers? “I think I see the problem,” he said finally. 

Talia sighed and rubbed her temple. “Protectiveness of loved ones amplified into overprotectiveness of loved ones at the exclusion of all others,” she said, more to herself than anyone. She moved her hand to her mouth in a contemplative gesture. “At least we caught it now,” she said to Deaton. She turned her attention back on Stiles. “Stiles, until further notice, I don’t think you should be in public alone.” 

Deaton nodded. “Agreed,” he said. “I don’t think we have to worry about you around the pack or your father, though.” He sighed heavily. “As such, I see no problem with making a Daylight Ring for you—”

Stiles fist-pumped. “Yes!” 

“—With the condition that you stay under constant surveillance during your training,” he finished. “If you harm anyone, I will be forced to rescind the enchantment and you will face the consequences of such carelessness.” 

Stiles winced, but nodded. It seemed fair. He didn’t really want to hurt anyone, honestly. Even if he was finding it hard to care for people he didn’t know at the moment. “Understood,” he said. “I won’t let you down, doc.” 

Deaton raised an eyebrow at that. He stuck his hand into his pocket and drew out a rather chunky looking ring set with a blue stone. He crossed the kitchen to the breakfast nook and set the ring in a beam of sunlight streaming in from between the curtains onto the table. He closed his eyes, held his hands over the ring, and mumbled something Stiles didn’t catch. When Deaton opened his eyes again, he turned to Stiles and indicated the ring with an outstretched palm before moving to the curtains to close them and cut off the sunlight. 

Stiles raised his eyebrows and looked between Deaton and the ring. “That’s it?” He asked. “I was expecting, like, a gust of wind or a flash of light or something.” He waggled his fingers in front of his face. Deaton looked at Stiles flatly, so Stiles raised his hands up in surrender. “Not that I doubt your totally awesome magic skills, doc.” He moved carefully to the table and picked the ring up. It seemed to be an ovular deep-blue stone set into a ring made of some kind of silvery metal. It was chunkier than he would have liked for something he’d have to wear a lot, but it sure beat burning up in the sunlight. He shrugged and slid it onto his right ring finger. It fit astoundingly well. “What’s it made of?” He asked as he went over to the window and fiddled with the curtain so he could carefully test the ring out. He slowly extended and then quickly retracted his hand several times before he fully trusted that he wasn’t going to burn. 

“Lapis lazuli,” Deaton supplied. “You’re lucky I had a few at home, Mr. Stilinski. Else you may have had to wait.” He turned to Talia. “If you require assistance deactivating the ring—even temporarily—please let me know.” 

Talia nodded at Deaton. “Thank you, Alan. I hope that won’t be necessary.” 

Deaton eyed Stiles for a moment. “Let me know if you need anything, Mr. Stilinski. My door is always open to you. I only wish your induction into the supernatural was under different circumstances.” He looked almost sad as he said that, but that could have been a trick of the light, because Deaton never looked anything but neutral. Without another word, Deaton nodded at both Talia and Stiles and left. 

Stiles sighed and wiped a hand down his face. “As if I didn’t have enough problems with the whole bloodlust thing, I also gotta deal with being more Stiles than ever?” He paused for a second. “Wait, now that I think about it, that might be more of a problem for everyone else.” He nodded a few times. “Great.”

Talia chuckled. “You’re still the same person you were before, Stiles,” she said knowingly. “Vampirism doesn’t change who you are at your core. It just amplifies what’s already there.” 

Stiles bit his lip and looked down. She’d—as she always had since he was little—seen right through him. She’d always had this uncanny ability to tell exactly what he was thinking. He wasn’t entirely sure whether it was a werewolf thing, or a Talia Hale thing. It was part of why they weren’t closer, if he was being honest. He preferred to keep his emotions close to the chest for the most part, and Talia Hale had a way of figuring him out anyway. Rather than address any of the things he was worrying about, though, he said, “Where’d Lydia get off to?” 

Talia gave him a look, but allowed it to drop. “I believe she’s in the library,” she said. “Likely refreshing her knowledge about vampires. She tends to do this when a new supernatural comes to town. You should have seen her when we met Kira and her mother.” 

Stiles frowned. He had kind of assumed everyone at the meeting earlier was a werewolf. “Is she not one of you?” 

Talia waved it off. “Not everyone in our pack is a wolf, no,” she said. “Kira and her mother are Kitsune, Malia is a werecoyote, and Jackson is a hybrid between a werewolf and what’s called a Kanima.” She shrugged. “There’s also Lydia and Jordan, who you’ve already been told about. Plus a couple of humans in Allison and Melissa.” She smirked lightly. “I guess you could say we have a rather diverse pack.” 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Stiles huffed. “Not to mention a vampire now, right?” 

Talia looked taken aback by that. “You want to be part of the Hale Pack?” 

Stiles shrugged. “Can you honestly say if I’d known about all this before today that I wouldn’t have butted my way in? Besides which, I’m close with practically three quarters of the pack, so why wouldn’t I want to?” 

Talia shook her head with a smile on her face. “Well then,” she said. “I’ll have to bring it up with the pack as a whole, but a majority yes vote won’t be hard.” 

Stiles smiled softly at that. It was weird, in a way, but he was excited about the prospect of being able to be involved in a group like this. Yes, he’d been involved in the majority of the group for years—could even see that he’d been treated like how he imagined pack would treat pack, looking back—but there was something different about it being an official thing. He honestly felt like he’d been made for this sort of thing. Closeness with a group of people who all knew and cared for him made something warm and pleasant settle in his chest. “Thanks,” he said, but frowned when something occurred to him. “Will my being a vampire be a problem, like, instincts wise?” 

Talia seemed to consider that for a moment. “If you had been anyone else, perhaps,” she said finally. “There was an existing bond between you and the majority of the pack prior to your being turned. Our bonds as a pack are not simply interpersonal, but supernatural in nature. That existing supernatural tether between yourself and a large portion of the pack has helped most of us from feeling uncomfortable being around another predator.” She sighed and crossed her arms. “It may be harder, unfortunately, with those wolves that you’ve not had a prior bond with, like Peter and Laura.”

“Laura seemed fine, though,” Stiles said. 

Talia glanced at the ceiling briefly. “She says that she’s ‘a professional’ and she’ll be damned if some ‘newbie vamp’ is going to trip her up,” Talia said, complete with air quotes. Stiles looked up, too, but heard nothing since he hadn’t been paying attention when Laura had apparently spoken. “Laura has been training to be the next Alpha since she was a teenager,” Talia continued, voice thick with pride. “Not to mention she deals with irritating lawyers every day. She knows how to navigate those sorts of feelings.” She looked up again briefly and chuckled at whatever Laura said. Stiles was aware that he had enhanced hearing now, too, but he would definitely need to practice before he became casually aware of his surroundings like that. 

Stiles huffed a laugh, but frowned. “Wait, you said Peter and Laura would be the ones who’d have problems with me. Why wouldn’t Derek—”

“Derek!” Talia interrupted. “You have perfect timing.” Stiles turned to see Derek coming into the kitchen, making him blush at being caught talking about the man. “Stiles has a Daylight Ring now, so I was hoping you’d go with him to his house to gather a few things.” 

Stiles frowned. She hadn’t told him about this plan. “Wait. Why do I need to grab things?” 

Talia gave him a look. “You won’t be able to get into your house without an invitation from its living occupant,” she explained. “Derek won’t have that issue, so you can direct him towards what you need for an overnight stay here while we figure out how to bring this all to your father.” 

Stiles frowned and nodded approvingly. It made sense. “That brings up another question I forgot to ask earlier. Becoming a vampire didn’t, like, magically cure my ADHD or anything, did it?” 

Talia chuckled and Derek raised an eyebrow. “No,” Talia said, “Vampirism doesn’t cure things like that, so you will likely want to grab your Adderall. It—much like the Bite for wolves—can do a lot, but it doesn’t cure everything.” Before Stiles could even speak again, Talia’s face softened and she said, “It wouldn’t have helped your mom, either.” 

Stiles had been thinking about his mom, to be fair, but he hadn’t intended to bring it up. “Good to know,” he choked out through the barrage of grief. He cleared his throat. “So, Derek, shall we?” 

Derek grumbled a little bit while shooting his mom a death glare, but didn’t outwardly protest. Which was a little odd, considering Derek seemed to dislike Stiles. Maybe Talia was just the kind of Alpha people listened to and followed without question. Either way, Derek stalked past Stiles and said, “Come on.” 

Stiles made a face at Talia, who shrugged. Stiles shook his head and followed Derek towards the front door. 

***

Stiles had been expecting to get back into his Jeep for the drive, but Derek insisted on taking Laura’s black Camaro. He mumbled something about her “owing” him for the “stunt she pulled” as he slid into the driver’s seat, so Stiles cautiously got into the passenger’s side. He had no idea what Derek was talking about, and he was frankly scared to ask. 

The drive itself was quiet. Derek seemed to be content saying nothing the entire ride, but Stiles found the silence oppressive. A few times, he opened his mouth to say something, but floundered at the glare Derek would shoot him before any actual words came out. The entire ordeal made Stiles uneasy. Or maybe flustered? Annoyed? Maybe a mix of all of the above? 

When they finally pulled up in front of the Stilinski house, Stiles gulped. “Thanks,” he finally said. “I know you probably had other things to do today, or at least better things to do than babysit me.” 

Derek gave him a look that Stiles couldn’t even begin to interpret. Derek’s murder-brows were in full effect, scrunched together in that way that made him look almost constipated. It was a little hard to interpret the exact meaning behind them, but it seemed to be a go-to of his. “Give me your keys,” Derek said instead of replying. 

Stiles huffed. “Keys to each other’s places already, Der-bear?” He said as he pulled his keys out. “Who knew this relationship would move that fast. I thought for sure you’d at least buy me dinner first.” He tossed his keys at Derek, who grabbed them with grace. He raised his eyebrows at Stiles, but didn’t rise to the bait. He got out of the car and stalked towards the front door of the Stilinski house. “See if I get you an anniversary present,” Stiles mumbled. Derek turned around to glare at him again—obviously having heard him—before turning back to the door and fumbling with Stiles’ keys. Stiles thunked his head against the headrest of his seat. 

He closed his eyes and tried to strain his hearing like he’d done earlier at the McCall house. He could hear footsteps as Derek made his way through the house, then rustling from his bedroom and the clink of hangers being moved in his closet. “Can you hear me?” Stiles asked in his normal speaking voice. 

Derek paused the rustling. “What do I get?” Derek asked, though the inflection made it sound more like a statement than a question. 

Stiles sighed. “Uh,” he said, “Just grab whatever clothes you think are good, but I’d like my laptop and its charger, my phone charger, and I’ll need my Adderall. That should be by my laptop.” He paused and bit his lip, thinking. “Could you also grab my toothbrush?” 

Derek grunted, then said, “We have extras. No need.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You want me to keep a toothbrush at your place now, Der?” He put a hand over his chest, even though he knew logically that Derek couldn’t see it. “This relationship really is serious. You really know how to make a guy feel special.” Derek let out a bit of an animalistic growl at that, which made Stiles laugh. 

“Who are you talking to?” Sheriff Stilinski’s muffled voice said from beside him, bringing Stiles’ focus back into himself and causing him to flail at the unexpected intrusion. “And why are you sitting in Laura Hale’s Camaro? Outside of our house?” 

Stiles quickly got out of the car, but was completely unsure of what to say. It was at that moment that Derek came out of the house and froze upon seeing the Sheriff. Stiles’ dad looked over to him and furrowed his brow. “There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for—” Stiles tried. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me you were dating someone, kid?” The Sheriff said, hurt bleeding into his voice. “I thought we were done with all the secrets.” 

Stiles gulped, guilt eating away at him for the lie he would have to tell for now while he figured out how to tell his dad the truth. “Dad, I—” 

“You know the guy thing doesn’t bother me,” the Sheriff said. “You know that, right?” 

Stiles nodded vigorously. “Dad, of course, I just—”

“Is it because you think I won’t approve of him?” The Sheriff looked over at Derek and waved. Derek, hands full of Stiles’ things, nodded back with a closed-mouth smile. “Son, Derek is a fine young man, and if you two are serious I want to know about it.” 

Stiles, at a complete loss for how else to spin the whole thing, found himself saying, “We just weren’t sure how serious it was, so we didn’t want to tell people before we knew for sure.” Derek’s eyes widened as he heard what was coming out of Stiles’ mouth and shook his head. Stiles just kind of motioned slightly in a way he hoped might convey that he didn’t really have any other way to spin this. 

The Sheriff looked at his vague motioning worriedly, then sighed. “Well if it’s serious enough that you’re giving him your key to the house while you sit in the car, it might be serious enough to warrant dinner with your old man.” He looked back at Derek, then, and scrunched his eyebrows again. “Are you planning to stay the night at his place tonight?” 

Stiles nodded enthusiastically several times. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, that is exactly what is happening here. You got it in one, dad.” He grimaced as he realized he was overselling it. “You are just the best detective. Absolutely the best.” 

The Sheriff wiped a hand down his face. “I don’t want to know,” he said, more to himself than to Stiles. He started walking away. “I don’t want to know,” he repeated as he got closer to his cruiser. He turned back to Stiles as soon as he got to the driver’s side door. “Now I’m not asking,” he said, “I’m telling. Dinner tonight. I don’t care if you go back to the Hale House afterwards, but we’re having a nice dinner where I’m going to get to know your boyfriend.”

“But—”

The Sheriff put up a finger to silence Stiles. “Six thirty,” he said. “And no cracks about my diet either.” Stiles opened his mouth to protest again, but the Sheriff leveled him with a silencing look that the Sheriff took whenever he wasn’t willing to negotiate. “Six thirty,” the Sheriff reiterated firmly. 

Stiles—helpless to do anything but agree given how guilty he felt about lying to his dad anyway—put his thumb up as the Sheriff got into the cruiser and waved as he drove away. As soon as he was out of sight, he ran his hands down his face. “Perfect,” Stiles said. “Really nailed it, there, Stiles.” 

Derek stalked towards him and thrust the things he’d gotten from the house into Stiles’ hands, causing Stiles to nearly drop it all on the ground in his scramble to get a hold of everything. “Really, Stiles?” 

Stiles shrugged exaggeratedly with his shoulders. “I don’t know! What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, dad, I got turned into a vampire last night and could you pretty please invite me into the house so I can stay with a pack of werewolves tonight to make sure I don’t murder anyone because I felt like a midnight snack’?” 

Derek glared at him for a second. “I’m not going,” he said. 

Stiles sputtered for a moment, “But Derek, I—”

“I’m not going,” he said as he got into the car. 

Stiles groaned, but allowed the subject to drop for now. He’d use the car ride to figure out a good plan of attack. He then tried and failed to open his own door, so he slouched slightly and said, “A little help, please?”

Derek rolled his eyes, but reached over the center console and opened the door without complaint. “You could have just asked him to come back to the house with us,” he said as Stiles slotted himself back into the front seat, setting everything but the clothes at his feet. “My mom would have helped you explain it.” 

Stiles sighed. “I’m hardly coming to terms with it myself,” he said. “I want to at least get a bit of a handle on things before I push them on him, too.” He bit his lip. “Besides, he’s in more danger knowing about the supernatural than not knowing.” He smiled wanly at Derek. “I can confirm after today that ignorance is, in fact, bliss.” 

Derek quirked his head slightly at him. “You’re lying,” he said as he turned on the car. 

Stiles bit his lip, but looked out the window as Derek pulled out into the street. “What else is new?”

***

The car ride back to the Hale House was silent yet again, though this time Stiles wasn’t bothered by it. He was glad for it, really, if it meant that Derek wouldn’t bring up the whole thing with his dad. But the reprieve didn’t last for long. 

As they neared the Hale House, Derek cleared his throat. “You’re going to have to tell him eventually.” 

Stiles sighed. “I know,” he said. “Can I, um—” He gulped. “Can I ask you a favor?” 

Derek raised an eyebrow as they pulled up to the house. He parked before he answered, “What?” 

Stiles chewed on his lip for a few moments. “I don’t want to tell my dad yet,” he said. “But that leads to the problem of maintaining the cover I just stupidly made for us. I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you—” He gulped. “Could you pretend to—”

“No,” Derek said, getting out of the car. 

Stiles scrambled to follow. “I know it’s not ideal,” he said, following Derek as he stomped towards the front door, “But I’m just asking for one meal. We don’t even have to act all couple-y or anything.” Derek still trudged towards the door, but Stiles grabbed his arm before he could open it. Derek stopped in place and turned his head towards Stiles, eyes flashing dangerously blue. “Please, Derek,” he said softly, causing Derek’s eyes to stop glowing. “I’ll pay you back. Anything you want, honest.” 

Derek searched Stiles’ face for a few seconds before quietly responding, “I’ll hold you to that.” He ripped his arm out of Stiles’ grip and trudged into the house. 

Stiles blinked. He really hadn’t expected that to be so easy. He’d prepared a ten-step plan to get Derek to agree—had even been prepared to cry and grovel if he had to. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before going back over to the Camaro to get his stuff. He pulled at the handle to find that the door was locked. He pulled at it a few more times before releasing it with a groan. He looked behind him and glared up at the house. “Ha ha, very funny, Derek,” he said. “I still need to get my stuff from in there.” This was met with silence. “I could very easily break the window and tell Laura it was you!” This, at least, prompted the telltale click of the doors unlocking, allowing Stiles to retrieve his stuff. 

Stiles made his way into the house, and—finding nobody in the living room—dropped his stuff onto the sectional as he went off in search of Talia. The kitchen seemed to be empty when he popped his head in, so he wandered around on the main floor for a minute to see if he could find her. If it had the added benefit of allowing a bit of snooping, who could blame him for taking the opportunity? 

As he walked around, he found various pictures of the current Hale pack doing various things. There were even a couple of pictures he was in, like that time he’d gone with his friends to the Oregon coast and the time they’d gone to Disneyland. A couple of the candids had this eye flare thing going that kind of obscured the person’s face—the werewolves, Stiles realized, making him snort—but the posed photos seemed not to have it. 

Stiles stopped in front of a picture near the front door that was different than the other pictures in that the only people he recognized in it were the surviving Hales—though they were several years younger. He gulped as he scanned the faces of the Hales that had been killed in the fire. He’d always felt for the family about their loss, but it was hitting him differently to put faces to the victims of such a heinous tragedy. He vaguely recognized Mr. Hale—Talia’s husband—from when he was a kid, but he could also tell who it was because Derek looked a lot like him. It reminded him viscerally of losing his own mother, but he knew that it wasn’t quite the same. He’d lost his mom slowly—had, in a way, had time to prepare. The Hales hadn’t had that luxury. One day the family had been whole and happy, the next they’d been picking through the ashy remnants of what had once been. He was suddenly happier than he’d ever been that Kate Argent was six feet under. 

He left the picture, then, trying to shake his head of the heavy space it had entered. He went around and poked his head into several rooms on the main level just to see what was around. He found a formal dining room, an office, several closets, a door to the basement, a door to the rather spacious garage, and a combination laundry room and bathroom. The laundry room was the most perplexing to him, since it had a shower. Why, then, did they have him use the one upstairs earlier? He frowned as he contemplated the increasing number of oddities surrounding the Hale family’s dealings with him thus far. Something about it all was bothering him, but he wasn’t entirely sure to what end. 

Shaking his head to focus on the task at hand, he strained his hearing to try and find any signs of life that might lead him in the right direction. There was some rustling coming from upstairs as someone turned the page of a book—Lydia, he imagined. He refocused to search for something else and found Laura and Talia talking quietly upstairs. He listened in as he made his way in their direction. 

—not so sure, mom,” Laura said. “Scott definitely won’t go for it right now, we both know Allison and Isaac vote with him, Peter doesn’t trust anyone as far as he can throw them, and Jackson is more likely to want him to get shipped off to Spokane with the other vampires.” Stiles frowned when he realized she was talking about him. “We just might want to wait on a vote until things settle down, is all I’m saying.”

Talia hummed at that. “You’ve got a point,” she said. “Knowing Stiles, I think it would be good for him to have a pack behind him, but that will be impossible if a fair number of them make him feel immediately unwelcome.” She tapped on something a couple of times. “What do you think, Stiles?”

Stiles jumped and blushed. He debated with himself about whether to confirm that he’d been listening in or not for a few seconds before deciding that the truth was likely the better way to go. “I mean,” he said, continuing towards their voices, “If it’s not a smart idea right now, then there’s no point in trying it yet, right? Gotta be smart about it. It’s not like I lose out on having the people around, anyway.” He walked past the bathroom on the second floor that he’d used earlier. 

Talia hummed thoughtfully. “True enough,” she said as he passed a few closed doors. “Did you get the things you needed from home?”

Stiles finally reached the room they were in, then. The door was open, so he kind of hovered near the doorway and looked inside. The room itself had this simple blue wallpaper and a light wood floor. Across from the door was a window looking out towards the preserve, with a small desk and a simple chair in front of it. Directly to the left of the window was what he would gauge to be a queen-sized bed with a nightstand next to it. Given how impersonal the room was—not to mention how Talia seemed to be putting sheets on the bed and how Laura was doing some light dusting—Stiles guessed it was a guest room. Confident he wasn’t intruding on someone’s personal space, he stepped inside. “I did, yeah,” he said, “But there was a bit of a complication.” Talia and Laura stopped what they were doing for a moment and turned to him. “My dad wants Derek and I there for dinner tonight. And I couldn’t say no.” 

“You ran into your father?” Talia asked. 

“Why does he want Derek there?” Laura asked at the same time. 

Stiles gulped, averted his eyes, and started wringing his hands. “Yeah,” he said, “See, he kind of—” He pushed a breath out. “He kind of caught Derek coming out of the house while I was sitting in the car and made some… assumptions.” 

Talia and Laura exchanged an unreadable look. “Meaning?” Talia prompted. 

He coughed into his hand awkwardly. “He kind of… assumed Derek and I are dating?” He said like a question, shrugging at the end of it. 

Talia put a hand over her mouth as her eyebrows shot upwards, and Laura immediately burst out laughing. “Are you kidding me?” Laura screeched. “Holy shit, this is literally the best thing to happen today.” 

Talia used her free hand to wack Laura half-heartedly. She cleared her throat and seemed to take a moment to try to compose herself, though there was still the hint of a smirk on her face. “What did Derek say about this?” 

“Well, he said no,” Stiles said. 

Talia raised an eyebrow while Laura got a glint in her eye as she looked angrily towards the wall. “He what?” Laura said. 

“But!” Stiles said quickly, raising his hands placatingly. “But, I was able to talk him into doing a favor for a favor.” 

Laura snorted, while Talia put a hand to her forehead. Talia took a deep breath. “Alright,” she said, putting her hand down. “As I said earlier, I’m not worried about how your control will be around your father. But it’s good that Derek will be there just in case.” She gave Laura a look. “I need to speak with Derek. I would say ears off, but I know you’re rather new to all this, Stiles. We’ll be in the office if you need us.” As she left the room, she said, “Derek, office. Now, please.” 

Stiles furrowed his brow, confused about why they were going to the office just to talk, but Laura said, “It’s soundproofed,” in explanation before he could ask the question. She then returned to the dusting she’d been doing. “Sorry about all that. Mom’s probably just going to give him an earful for not wanting to help.” 

Stiles shrugged and set to work finishing where Talia had left off making the bed. “I get why he said no,” he said. “I know it was a little unexpected, not to mention I can’t imagine he wanted to waste his time dealing with my bullshit today.” 

“Don’t be so sure,” Laura muttered, but he ignored her. The Hales were still being weird and he was just going to ignore it for the moment. 

“I just don’t want to tell my dad just yet,” he continued as if she hadn’t said anything. “So I just panicked and ran with what my dad was thinking.” He shrugged. “There’s also this, like, anxiety that rises up whenever I even think about telling him about all this where I just can’t help but imagine him getting hurt or worse because of it, y’know?” 

Laura gave him a commiserating look. “I remember when your friends got involved in all this,” she said. “Most of them had the same sort of anxieties. I think Scott, Allison, and Lydia are the only ones that actually told anyone. Though Lydia is the only one who chose to tell her mom, I think. Scott and Allison were… special cases.” 

Stiles nodded as he finished making the bed, then plopped down on it. “Yeah,” he said, “Before I, um—” He looked down at his hands and fiddled with them for a second. “Melissa mentioned Scott was forced into it. And since Allison’s family are hunters, I figured that was kind of a given.” 

Laura nodded as she finally set down the Swiffer duster she’d been using on the desk by the window. She leaned against the desk and crossed her arms. “Don’t feel bad that you’re taking some time,” she said. “There’s still time before the whole blood-sucker thing is noticeable.” He gave her a look for that, and she grinned at him. He fought the smile he felt building. Damn it, he’d always really liked Laura, even if they’d only ever rarely interacted. She quirked her head. “How do you think you’ll handle dinner? I mean, you’re going to have to get invited in, right?” 

Stiles hadn’t even thought about that. He ran a hand through his hair. “We’ll have to wing it.” He huffed. “Can I even still eat human food? Like, is that a thing that I can physically do anymore? Or is it just all blood, all the time? Oh, god, the thought of never having a curly fry again may be more than I can bear.” 

“Don’t worry,” Lydia said, strolling in with a thick, leather-bound book in hand, “Your body still functions rather normally so long as you maintain a healthy diet of blood. So you don’t have to worry about your weird curly fry addiction.” She set the book on the desk behind Laura. “Some light bedtime reading,” she said. “Now, why do you need to blend in as a human? I thought you weren’t going out in public until Talia’s vampire friends train you.” 

Bless Lydia Martin for hearing that he was worried about eating and immediately knowing it was for blending in. Even with the dig about the curly fries, which was fair. “My dad is forcing me and Derek to have dinner with him tonight.”

Lydia quirked her head and squinted her eyes. “He assumes it’s a meet-the-boyfriend scenario,” she said, gears practically visibly turning in her head. “Interesting strategy.”

“Playing off his assumptions has worked out before,” Stiles pointed out. “Remember how I told you he acted when he caught me at Jungle?” 

Lydia smirked lightly. “Vividly,” she said. “He really did just accept that you were there to support Danny. Even after you tried to come out to him.” 

Stiles laughed. “I still give him shit for that,” he said. He couldn’t imagine trying to “come out of the coffin” going much differently than that first attempt to come out as bi had been. “My dad is definitely going to know something’s up, though. I can’t see Derek playing my boyfriend very well.” 

Laura snorted. “He’ll be fine,” she said in a strange tone of voice Stiles didn’t care to even try interpreting. 

Lydia shot her a look, but turned her attention on Stiles. “Worst comes to worst, you just have to tell him.” She shrugged. 

Stiles groaned. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” 

***


End file.
